


Broken

by LighteningLillies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, post trf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LighteningLillies/pseuds/LighteningLillies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am not broken anymore Molly." His voice so horase he choked on the last words.</p><p>"I didn't fix you.." She whispered back to him in the darkness of the room</p><p>"You didn't you filled my heart where a hole use to be."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. THE FALL

"What do you need?"

"You." his voice was so raw and on the edge of hurt. Her heart broke for him right then. He went on to tell her how he needed to keep everyone safe. John. Mrs Hudson. Lestrade. Almost everyone. But she wanted to help. She knew if the truth came out it would mean her license and everything. Everything. Every long night working, Every late night studying, Every date she turned down, Every holiday she didn't go home, and Every sleepless night she dragged herself to St. Bart's just to see him smile. Everything wasted. Without out missing a beat she agreed.

The plan was carefully thought out by him, she was just in charge of finding a john doe that looked his age his height . Of course she found out had it transported from another hospital, he was a blonde but with a box of hair dye that was easily fixed. She bashed in the face a bit, broke a few ribs, and a arm and the poor dead fool was ready to star as the great Sherlock Holmes.

She readied a bag of men's scrubs and a wig for Sherlock to change into once he was wheeled into the morgue. He told her not to worry how he was get the doctors to believe his death was real just to make sure no one saw the body after she signed it off. She even went a head and thought about funeral arrangement's. At the end of the day when John rushed out after getting a 'call' , they went to it. Sherlock stood there for a moment and Molly tried to gather enough courage to give him a smile.

"It's going to be ok...you'll see."

"Why do you still believe in me?"

"All magicians assistants believe in magic..." He smirked at her and she shrugged her shoulders a bit. ".... and I know the truth. You are not and never have been or will be a fake." She hugged him softly afraid to break him she hugged to hard. "Knock'em dead...I mean..."

Sherlock smiled and nodded before heading up to the roof.

 

Hours later it seemed they where both where in Molly's flat. Sherlock showered, changed, and waited for Mycorft's car. Molly sat in her chair watching him dig through the pack he had brought over for Baker St. The pack reminded Molly and she went into the kitchen. She brought a take out bag from the Tai joint down the road and held it out for Sherlock to take. He eyed the bag then raised a brow at her.

"No thank you, not really hungry."

"Just open it."

Sherlock untied the plastic and his eyes lite up when he saw the context of the bag. Reaching in he pulled out the dark navy jacket he saw seemed to wear. The collar soiled with spots of blood. His fingers traced over them and he smirked as though remembering a great joke.

"Thank you M...."

When he looked up she was gone, and her bedroom door ajared. He put down his jacket and walked over knocking on the door softly. "Molly?"

She sat on the edge of the bed with the rather large house cat that roamed the flat sitting in her lap enjoying the attention his mistress gave him. She on the other hand had hot tears rolling down her cheeks and sniffed as she realized he was in the room with her. Wiping the tears away terribly hiding the fact she was just sobbing. "Molly you know I am alright, why are you upset?"

"You wont be fix until you end the network will you?"

"Fix?"

"Yes Sherlock, Fix. Attached. Securely in a particular place or position: Fixed."

"I know the definition of Fix..... I won't be back until Moritary's network is gone, yes."

Molly looked over at him, tears swelling back into those perfect simple yet amazing brown eyes of hers. Sherlock's heart ached at the slight of it. He knew what she meant. His hand found hers resting on the chunky cat's back. Her fingers wrapped around his and their hands locked together.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes I do."

His thumb traced the black of her hand a few time before he felt a tear land on them. He couldn't take this anymore. His strong arms wrapped her into a hug and he found himself laying back on the bed, the cat jumping off meowing at the rudeness off moving him from his position in her lap. Together there on the bed Molly cried into his chest and he held her. It felt so natural to comfort her, shushing her and rubbing her lovely hair. His lips found her temple and she seemed to clam herself a bit. But the fuel was already pouring on the fire, as her hands found his neck. His blue pools of eyes drown her as his fingers traced down her jaw to her neck stopping at the peak of her chest. It wasn't until she took a deep breathe did she know she was holding it. Licking her lips she found her eyes locked with hers. 

Sherlock leaned down and met her sweet lush lips with his own and kissed her. Why? Why hadn't he done this sooner? She was incredible. Her smell. Sweet yet reminded him of old books and grilled cheese sandwiches Her taste, mouth watering. The sounds she made with her eyes close enjoying the simple pleasures of this kiss made it hard for him to pull back. His trousers becoming tight and uncomfortable. Parting he panted as he left smaller sweeter kisses on the edge of her lips and neck stopping at her ear.

"I want to be fix, for you, I do."

"Then you better come home soon."

Smiling up at him again she gave him one more kiss. One more and his phone buzzed. One more and he was told the car was waiting down the block. One more and she watched as Sherlock left her flat. One more and he was gone. She wanted just one more.

 

 

The funeral was terrible like most funerals are. Crying. Tears. Weeping. She hated funeral's. Molly hadn't been to one since her dear old dad died a few years before. Molly found the black dress hiding back in the closet, dusty and needing a wash. John had been a mess the past few days, barely eating, not sleeping, and always needing someone to talk to. Molly was happy to oblige Mrs. Hudson needed a few good hugs a cup of tea and she set to work with Molly making sure Sherlock had a lovely last 'Hurrah!'. No music. A few simple flowers. A grey casket; closed of course at Molly's request. A priest said a prayer and insured all those who gathered that Sherlock was in a better place. Standing at the grave site after it all was said and done was John, Mrs. Hudson and herself. It really had been a lovely service. The sound of someone approaching her startled her to the point of nearly stumbling. What was she excepting? A ghost? 

Lestrade held out his hand to settle Molly in her heels as she took a fright. Then looked over at John, when Molly notice his fist tighten by his sides.

"He trusted you."

"I know John."

"Why? Why didn't you bother to believe him!? He wasn't a fake! He counted on you! You Bastard! " John yelled and Molly stepped ever so graceful in between them placing a hand on his chest.

"John...not now..." It was soft but strong. Soft was normal, but not strong John noticed it first then Lestrade. How badly must Molly be hurting. It was no huge secret she was head over heels in love with the prick that used his charm to get whatever he wanted from her. Then without reason commit suicide claiming he was a fake. John had even lied to Molly and told her that he mentioned her in his last call. What a prick to not even think about her. Molly Hooper. HIS pathologist.

" No Molly he is right. John. Molly. Mrs. Hudson. I know it's too late...but I am sorry. I am so very sorry... I was a damn fool. Still am." Lestrade wiped a tear from his eye trying to remain strong. John lost it and hugged him hard patting his back, a very manly hug no matter how emotional it was. Mrs. Hudson offered the men a tissue then looked for Molly. She had made her way back to the sidewalk, heels in hand, heading back tot he road.

Molly needed a break. The raw pure emotion of everyone was digging deep in to her guilt and gut. How long could she go on and lie to them? This was worst then letting Sherlock go that night. Sighing she ran a hand through her long straighten hair, not noticing Mycroft Holmes standing next to an angel shaped tomestone.

"Miss Hooper?"

Molly jumped three feet in the air. Why was she so damn jumpy today?

"Oh Mr. Holmes..."

"Call me Mycroft, please."

"Alright Mycroft, how are you holding up?"

"Better than you it seems."

"So it seems indeed."

"This is for you...you must of dropped it."

He handed her a small grey flip phone nearly ancient now a days and turned to leave.

"Wait Mr...Mycroft! This is not mine." she ran after him to give it back. 

"Sure it is, now I need to get going, busy busy busy ." Climbing into a very sleek looking car he took off and left the dust trail be hind him. The phone buzzed and she flipped it open.

That dress looks horrible on you. I like the bare feet though.

-SH

Smiling she shot back a text.

Dead men tell no tales. See you soon?

-MH

 

A buzz shot back a minute later.

At Home.

-SH

 

Before she could reply another buzzed through.

Home is where ever you are at Molly.

-SH


	2. THE DOOR

Three years.

Three long years.

Three long sleepless horrible lonely years.

Well completely lonely. He had this tiny bit of connection to the old Sherlock he use to be. He held it in his hands always, even when it was in his pocket his fingers never left it. This tiny bit of technology was all he had to connect to what was left of his pieces he left be hide. A sweet little 'ping' would vibrate through the phone and somewhere in him he would lite up and smile like a firework show. He sat in the driver's seat of an old BMW watching the neighborhood. Nothing changed. But that wasn't true, he had.

A few trips back to London and a night here and there spent with Molly made it easier to accept the fate that maybe it was ok he wasnt the old Sherlock.

The first trip happen right after the funeral, he couldnt wait for her to return home. He took a cab about five minutes before Mycroft showed up and deliver her present. The look she gave him when she walked through her bedroom door and saw him sitting there on the bed. Sherlock waited to capture that moment and hold it forever. How did he, Mr. Sherlock Heartless Machine Holmes, feel anything towards the woman he charmed only when he was in dire need? But more importantly how can Miss Molly Hooper be the one to complete him? Suddenly questions and answers seemed less important, especially when he felt her touch.

Sitting there thinking of their time, her touch, the need from both of them just to be held, and the short night and early morning.

Molly made the first move, Sherlock needed her permission, but didnt dare ask. Her hands found his shirt and untuck it from his slacks. His suite jacket neatly placed over the side of an armchair, and shirt slowly unbuttoned. Her hands trembled and it was clear she had cried and worked herself up at the funeral. Taking her hands into his he held them close to his heart. The beat of his heart pounded against his chest, it took Molly a moment to feel it but when she did she smiled and it melted him away. That smile. The only she only showed to him. Sherlock's Smile. It was his. The need to claim every tiniest detail about her and make them only his consumed him. His lips captured hers in a fierce battle that carried over and on the bed. Molly's giggle took him by surprised but in thought it was rather cute and sweet. Cute and sweet. That was the old Molly. Now it was Sexy and Gentle yet so strong it could bend steel. That was the new Molly. Just like the new Sherlock was piecing himself back together, and not alone either. Molly's hands could easily piece the tiniest pieces of him back together if want, but she knew he needed to himself as well. This woman. Unlike any other like. She was no Irene, nor did he want her to be. She wasn't THE WOMAN, she was THE WOMAN WHO COUNTED. Even then with her body under him she tempted him more than any human being had ever in his lifetime.

That horrid black dress was pulled off her and tossed away with little care on to where it landed. Sherlock sat there and looked at her. Her strapless black bra and her skull printed boy shorts lined in soft purple lace. Her body look like porcelain, so soft and smooth. Ivory skin. Every inch of her he could see, and he guess even some he couldn't, was beautiful . He could contain himself, he leaned down and kissed her navel. His tongue circling the rim before leaving soft little kisses. The sound that escaped her lip was....perfect. Her hands traced muscles along his back and shoulders, down to his arms and then to his chest.

"Are you sure..?" she asked.

Not missing a beat he took her mouth again. She dropped her defenses and welcomed her tongue. "More than I have been about anything in my life..." He felt her foot run up and down his calf through the soft slack material. It was strange how one woman, whom he had known for three plus year prior, knew every habit of hers, could shock him. She was touching, smelling and tasting him as they continued. Like a blind man remembers the details and floor layout, she was remembering his body. He was flattered.

His pants where quickly removed followed closely by her bra. Their skin burned hot against each others. His hand rubbed her soft entrance through the panties she wore, making her ache and moaned our for him. Of course it didnt help at the sight of her lovely breast his mouth had each nipple, one at a time, between his teeth and lips. Pleasuring this woman was the only thing that truly mattered. He had no idea how long he carried on before a tug of his curls jolted him back to attention. Molly was panting and her hair crazed and tousled, she looked ravishing. The cloth of the panties where damped and with a quick slip past the material he felt how ready she was. Slipping two fingers in she tighten around him and he loved it. Gasping and holding on the bed sheets for dear life, she moaned his name. Sherlock. He could hear her that it just like that everyday for the rest of his life and never get old of it, as long as it came from her. It just rolled off her lips perfectly, like she was born to say his name.

Pulling his fingers out she took a hold of his hand and took the two fingers into her mouth sucking the juices off. Her tongue wrapping around the slender violinist fingers. He groan feeling the tent in his trousers throb with want and need. In a rush he stripped their underwear off and he knelled before her in full erect. Slowly in a teasing manner he moved past her soaked lips, and once they got past the head they both moaned out a deep sigh of pleasure. She was incredibly tight and if he wasnt careful this could be over before it started. She didnt care though she wanted more of him, as she thrust her hips towards him taking just a tad bit more before reaching up and grip the bed post for support. Taking a few deep breaths he moved forward taking her completely, his shaft hitting her hilt. After first he thought he might have hurt her as she hissed out in pain but once they both had properly adjusted Molly had a look in her eyes. A wild new sexy look. Sherlock only wanted to please her but it was coming harder to hold of the flood gates, and after a few long strokes of a thrust he needed to stop.

"What? What is wrong?" Molly looked hurt and wounded.

"Rubber?" He asked helplessly. How could he not thought of bringing them. Oh...because when he decided to kill himself he didnt think he would sog Molly. Molly blinked a bit surprised and then shocked she hadnt thought of it.

"I dont have any...damnit."

"Pill?"

"No. No reason to be." That was comforting in a small way. Sherlock felt like she earned a kiss for that. And when he did she mumbled out in half moan and half whisper. "Fuck it. Cum in me Sherlock."

 

Sitting there in the blacked out BMW it was hard to subsided his erection just for remembrance of those simple little words. He did release in her and her on him. They went out for the next two hours tied up in each others bodies, then found rest at the end of the night with the bed sheet and each others warmth. Nothing in this world would be more brilliant more magnificent than that night. The way her hair fell on her face the next morning sleeping in bed as he crawled out to shower and leave before the hustle and bustle of London caught up with the dead detective.

He never left Molly though without a goodbye gift. He felt like he owed her that. Each and every time it was something different, the first was arrangements of flowers everywhere. How could she have missed it when she walked in that night? He understood the funeral had been hard on her but four huge vases filled with flowers went unnoticed until he received a text the next day thanking him?

Of course they text each day. They would chat small talk. The how are yous? and where are you...which he never told. She was a good listener and he a good speaker. Sometime she would tell him how empty London felt and he could have agreed more but about what ever city he was in that day.

There was a time he had to lay low and the text stopped. Funny enough he didnt get many text with her freaking out. Just an "Thinking of you." every once in a while on while he would always reply. "As so I."

The second time he came back to London it was her birthday the next year. His hair had grown out a bit and when he approached her, he almost got pepper sprayed. Not so funny then, but looking back very humorousness For her birthday it was a gold bracelet with a skeleton on it, all the way from Spain at the Dia De Los Muertos festival. Of course she loved it, and made him promise to take her one day. That was the first time Sherlock wondered if they where a couple or a fling? But it also gave him something to look forward to. So of course he agreed.

He would find himself texting her about John and his adventures and what John would do. How Lestrade was better than any of the goons in France. How he would love to see Anderson and Donovan's faces when they found out he was alive and well, doing what should be their jobs. Molly was so nice to always say she would arrange it. How could this be little mousy Molly?

The last time he had been back was the day after Valentine's day . Molly had been working the night before and it was busy so he had to wait till the next day to drop in on her at Barts. She looked pale and thinner than normal. But sure enough the moment she noticed him, her how comportment changed. It was like she came to life at the site of him. He made her that happy? A single red rose, a kiss, some sex, cheap wine, home cooked meal, some more sex, and another kiss goodnight was her gift then.

 

The Neighborhood got quite and he exit the car and walked the block and a half tot he flat. Taking out a small knife he picked the lock and made his way in shutting the door softly be hide him. Walking past the pile of books and a few old newpapers, yet to be thrown away, he made his way to the bed room. He didnt turn the light on he knew the area like the back of his hand. Slipping off his jacket placing it neatly on the armchair she crawled under the blankets and wrapped an arm around the small object laying in bed.

Of course the small object screamed and yelled kicking him and falling off the other side of the bed and found a old medical text book and tossed it at him. he grunt as the book made contact with his hand and fingers. He was sure he just broke a finger. The light quickly flipped on and Molly stood there in a huge tee shirt with another medical textbook in hands ready to strike.

"Sherlock? Blood Hell!! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

"Nice to see you too...I think you broke my finger."

"Let me look. Ouch! Sorry...I need to set this. How long are you home for?" She almost sounded angry in her voice when she asked. Sherlock watched her as she set the finger splinting it as she went. Molly sure looked beautiful there, even if she was pissed off. "So for how long Sherlock?"

"How long do you want me back for?"


	3. THE MIRROR

One whole month had pass. Of course once the word that Sherlock Holmes was back from the dead the media ran the story and ran the story and ran it to the ground. Then once an anonymous source relieved the names of all of Moriarty's network that had been found or all had died in the past three years of freak accidents, the media reclaimed Sherlock a hero. Of course Molly was very pleased that he was back. But just between them, he never did get that answer that night. She had no idea why she couldnt give him a straight answer, and she secretly wished he would pressure her for an answer but he never did. Some part of her still thought he was broken. He wasnt the Sherlock she once knew. To be fair she wasnt the Molly he once knew either. Between kick boxing lessons and working out a bit more, she became more confident and proud of herself. No more Mousy Molly.

She remembered the night he went home to Baker Street. She sat by her cell most of the night wondering if she should call to check in on him, more importantly make sure John hadn't killed him off yet; this time for real. Molly had mention the lady John had seemed to be dating for quite some time now. Sherlock of course pushed it off as nothing, but as ladies know, she knew love when she saw it. Or at least she use to think she could. In the three years Sherlock had been gone she doubted herself so much. Did he care or was he needing the last connection to his old life. Their connection was way more then a chat or tea, but in a strange way she felt use once again by the great sleuth. Sometimes he would send her such random text that just made her heart soar and spirits where instantly lifted. Molly always wore her bracelet to it was the first real nice gift a man had ever given her. Did that mean something just to her or was it more to him too? He did remember her birthday, right? Maybe it was just a lucky date he picked. Unlikely since when he came in those few times he knew the layout of her apartment like the back of his hand. Sherlock had his ways of finding out whatever he wanted to find out.

Sometimes she would catch herself sighing in deep thought about him,like some silly school girl. Keeping herself busy is how she would normally deal with problems like this, but on this rare occasion her problem was her work. A whole month and she had barely received a text from him and only seen him twice at the morgue. Deep in her gut she had a feeling it was all a show. Three years....

Three years.

Three long years.

Three long wonderful passionate happy years.

Gone to waste?

Molly's head ached from the stress and over thinking, it was really eating her up inside. Sitting at her desk she rest her head in her hands letting her hair flow over her face. He had used her. How could she be so bloodly stupid! The feeling of her heart being ripped apart hurt more than anything she had ever felt in her lifetime. Looking at the gold bracelet she wanted to rip it off toss it in the waste basket and then lite it on fire. But once she wipe the blurred tears out of her eyes and sat the elegant engravings on the skull and the ruby in the eye sockets, the details. He was a detailed guy. He wouldve known that this wouldve been prefect for her. Thats why she hated it and loved it equally so much. Too damn much. Slamming her fist down, she cried harder, and finally she cried a good cry.

So many mixed emotions she had been bottled up for so long she just needed to let them out and then move on. Four tissues later she regathered herself. Her mascara no doubt had ran and she made her way out of her office and went to her locker.

She needed to find the powder and hanky to wipe her face. Movement be hide her made her look up and she glanced into the mirror. She was taken back and she screamed.

Sherlock was there be hide her and she fell back against her locker holding on to her heart beating a thousand beat per second. 

"Good! Fucking! God! Sherlock! Put a damn bell around your neck. Jeez!....." Clamming down a bit she sighed and sank down to the floor. The raw emotions taking over her again, bursting her into tears once again.

Sherlock moved quickly to her and knelt down.

"Molly, are you okay? I didnt mean to scare you."

"I know...sorry...I just need a moment."

Standing to her feet she grabbed her hanky holding it to her eyes.

"Molly?"

"Yeah?"

"How long?"

"Just another moment."

"Not that..."

"Oh." Looking up into his deep blue eyes she knew she had to say something. "You are still broken?"

"Why would I still be? I have finished it."

"Have you? You're done? You can walk away and never think about repeating the actions you did before and after ever again?"

He looked up at her, he was still knelling and it looked as he was asking for marriage. She grabbed her jacket and helped him to his feet. He caught on and sat on the bench beside him.

"Yes I am, yes I can....I think."

"You think?" she laughed and hit the locker taking out her anger on the poor metal. Why was she so damn mad? Opening her mouth she just let it all spill out. "You left, I held your secret Me! I was just another piece of ass a lost connection to your past life. Keeping be buttered up with text and gift and the occasional quickie. God! Oh My God! How could I be so blind! I wanted to help you and I thought I did. But I was just another pawn right? A month Sherlock Holmes! A month! Why now? Why?"

Sitting there watching her he swallowed and thought about how to word this.

"I didnt think. I just got in the cab and came over. I needed you. I held back for so long because I didnt want to hurt you. I wasnt sure if I was complete. The last person I needed to protect wasnt John Mrs.Hudson or Lestrade it was you Molly."

She cried out and turned away walking back and forward pacing the room. When she could talk with stuttering she looked back.

"I’m not broken anymore, Molly."

"I didn’t fix you, Sherlock."

"No, you filled the hole where my heart was. You made me whole."

Tears kept coming down, and Sherlock wasted no time to gather her in his arms and hold her. Soft sweet kisses lining the collar of her neck to her cheeks. He mumbled something but he was sorry and she just laughed and cried it off as she held on to him for dear life.

"Take me home, please Sherlock."

"I thought you never ask."


End file.
